


Rumourmonger

by bunniewabbit



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Lotrips - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-30
Updated: 2004-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunniewabbit/pseuds/bunniewabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gossip rule number one: don't believe everything that you hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumourmonger

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a part of the [Lotrips Web Project](http://www.livejournal.com/users/airgiodslv/88105.html) and a sequel to [Local Gossip](http://www.livejournal.com/users/airgiodslv/89644.html), by [](http://airgiodslv.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://airgiodslv.livejournal.com/)**airgiodslv**.

 

“I wanted another drink.” Elijah's hip bumps against the side of Dom's car and stays.

Digging the keys from the depths of his jeans pocket, Dom looks him over. There's a slight flush to Elijah's cheeks and his too-bright eyes blink slowly, as though the lids are too heavy to open back up properly. “I think that would have been a very bad idea.”

“No. No, it would have been a fucking brilliant idea.”

“One more drink, and you wouldn't feel a thing, let alone remember it.”

“My point _exactly_ ,” Elijah agrees with an arch look, emphasizing said point with a finger to Dom's chest. Calmly folding his hand around Elijah's wrist, Dom brings the finger to his mouth, pulling it inside and taking great care to wrap his tongue around it as he sucks on it briefly before letting it slide from his lips with a wet _pop_. Elijah stares at Dom's mouth for a moment, his own frozen in the slightly open position it adopted the instant his finger disappeared between Dom's lips. His gaze slides down to his still-wet, still-pointed finger, back to Dom's mouth, and slowly up to meet Dom's eyes.

Repressing a smile, Dom opens the passenger door. “Now, put that away and get in.”

* * * * *

Elijah is silent on the short drive to Dom's flat, staring out the side window and worrying a hapless bit of thumbnail with his teeth, allowing Dom to put brains over beer and concentrate on getting them there intact.

After an uneventful and eerily quiet trip, Dom switches off the engine and glances at Elijah, who hasn't moved. But when he leaves the car, Elijah is right there, shadowing Dom to the door and standing with his hands in his pockets while Dom unlocks it, shoulders slightly hunched under his jacket as Dom waves him inside.

Dom's keys thunk loudly onto the table and he's shrugging out of his jumper when Elijah's voice, high even for him, finally breaks the peculiar silence.

“We're not going to do anything, right? Just have a beer and come up with a good story to tell the guys. Right?” Dom turns around slowly. Standing with his hands still in his pockets, hips cocked and a half-smile on his lips, Elijah is doing his best to look casual, but the way he's hovering near the door suggests to Dom that any sudden movement might cause him to bolt like a panicked, blue-eyed rabbit.

Resisting the urge to test that theory (if only because Dom's pretty sure that Elijah can outrun him), Dom carefully takes a few, loose-hipped steps toward Elijah until he's standing nearly nose to nose with him. “Is that what you want to do?”

Elijah regards Dom solemnly, almost apologetically. “I'm straight, Dom.” His voice is quiet and firm, and Dom mentally congratulates Peter for signing Elijah and his formidable acting talent to this film.

“Fine. Be straight.” He nudges his pelvis forward just enough to brush fabric against fabric and then pulls back again. “But I think part of you is just a bit interested, yeah?”

To his credit, Elijah doesn't flinch, but Dom can't help feeling just the tiniest bit triumphant when Elijah's voice cracks slightly on, “Maybe just a hand job?” and, at Dom's scornful frown, immediately amends it to, “Blow job?”

“Elijah. Do you really think that Karl will settle for a blow job?”

“Who says I'm going to do anything with Karl?” Elijah protests, but the flush on his cheeks deepens and spreads across the bridge of his nose, and Dom makes a mental note to thank Billy for dropping that delightful tidbit about Karl and his speculation regarding Elijah's flexibility this evening.

“Well, an hour ago, you weren't going to do anything with me, either. And, yet...” Dom looks around and gestures theatrically, “...here we are.” He leans forward, his weight pushing Elijah back to land with a soft _thud_ against the wall.

“But, Karl's got nothing to do with--”

“C'mon, Lijah,” Dom glowers. “If you're looking to practice before you move on to Mr Urban, then you really should fucking practice.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Or, rather, practice fucking.”

And then Elijah does the first truly surprising thing he's done all night: he finally pulls his hands out of his pockets, slips them around behind Dom, palms his arse and _tugs_. The sudden collision brings shocking awareness of their mutual arousal, and Dom finds himself staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at a near-mirror reflection of his expression before Elijah recovers and sets his jaw, eyes flashing darkly.

“All right, then, Dom. If we're going to do this, then I get to have some say in how it's going to go down.” At Dom's wicked grin, Elijah hesitates, frowns in annoyance, and forges ahead. “Some ground rules, okay? Number one: I am _not_ going to bottom for you. Number t-”

“Pardon the interruption, Lij, but, number one, _A_ : are you really sure you want to put your dick up my arse?”

That stops Elijah cold and Dom watches, fascinated, as the possible answers to that question flicker across Elijah's mobile features; the initial shock wavers and morphs into indignation, then resolve, and finally, Elijah's slightly parted lips and the dark glitter of his eyes leave little doubt regarding his decision.

A smug smile spreads molasses-slow across Dom's face. “Well. Good to know,” he purrs before continuing. “But we haven't gotten to B, yet. Number one, _B_ would be: do you really think Karl will let you top him?”

Elijah rolls his eyes. “ _Fuck_ Karl, man,” he mutters.

“I have, thanks. It's how I know these things.” Dom sighs deeply. “Elijah.” He shakes his head and smiles wearily, like a patient teacher whose pupil is struggling to grasp what should be a simple concept. “Answer a question for me: why did you come here tonight?”

Elijah's mouth opens, then closes, and he turns his head and eyes Dom narrowly. “Is this a trick question?”

“Aside from the obvious answer,” Dom clarifies and grinds his hips forward, making it even more obvious. “Why tonight? Why me? What do you _really_ want?”

His brow furrowing in pretty perplexity, Elijah drops his gaze and plucks restlessly at the shoulder seam on Dom's t-shirt. “I. When I... For awhile, now... Ah, fuck.” Determined blue eyes lock with Dom's again, and the fingers stop fidgeting and ball into a fist on Dom's shoulder. “I'm curious, okay? I can't help it! I've tried not thinking about it, but I'm nineteen fucking years old. Sometimes it's all I _can_ think about. And...” His voice softens, losing its petulant edge. “I... I trust you, man.” Elijah looks away and reddens again -- a good look on him, to Dom's mind -- and Dom has to fight the impulse to interrupt him in some way (a kiss being both the most logical and agreeable method) and risk derailing him when he's clearly on a roll. “And what do I want?” Elijah continues, his voice climbing impossibly higher into a choked-off giggle. “Oh, my fucking god... At the moment, what I really want is a fucking smoke.”

“Save it,” Dom advises, grinning. “You'll want it even more, after. Now,” He lays a hand alongside Elijah's face, bringing his gaze back up to meet Dom's eyes. “If you really do trust me, answer that last question for me. Honestly.”

Elijah's eyes close as his head falls back and knocks against the wall, the muscles of his throat working beneath the flushed skin as his lips twist around the quiet words: “Don't make me say it, Dom.”

Swallowing down an unexpected pang of sympathy, Dom runs his hands soothingly up and down Elijah's arms. “Fair enough, then. How about we see what I can do to your next rule.”

Elijah's eyes crack open. “What?”

“Well, rule number one is now defunct, right? Maybe I can do some damage to rule number two.”

“Smart-ass.” With a smirk, Elijah shoves at Dom's shoulders, dislodging him enough to stand properly. “Okay. Rule number two is: no kissing.” Seeing Dom's eyebrows shoot up, Elijah continues, “It's just too...” He wrinkles his nose and waves his hands dismissively. “It'd just be too weird.”

“Hm.” Dom frowns, reaching out to pull Elijah's jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. “No kissing, huh? All right.” The jacket slips down Elijah's forearms and Dom gives it a sharp twist, coiling the slack fabric around one hand and effectively pinning Elijah's wrists behind his back. Watching Elijah's eyes widen, lips softening and falling open, Dom slips his other hand under the edge of Elijah's shirt and meets smooth, warm skin. “What about this, then? Is this okay?”

His palm slides up over Elijah's ribs, skimming across a nipple and Elijah's breathing stutters as he answers, “Perfectly acceptable. Yes.”

“And this?” Dom leans in and runs his tongue up the side of Elijah's neck as Elijah's head tilts away in mute approval. “This too much like kissing?” he murmurs into the hollow below Elijah's ear and nips softly at the lobe with his teeth.

Moving back down the length of Elijah's throat, Dom feels the buzz of Elijah's voice and the rapid-fire rhythm of Elijah's pulse under his lips. “No... 's fine. It's good,” Elijah says, sounding like he can't get a proper lung-full of air, and as Dom reaches the place where the angle starts to change between neck and shoulder, Elijah exhales a startled, “Ah!” as Dom closes purposeful teeth on muscle and flesh. Dom can feel Elijah's arms tensing and tugging at the fabric binding them, not hard enough to pull away (because he could, if he wanted to), but restless with the need to touch and grasp.

Dom's fingertips sweep feather-light down Elijah's torso and past the dip of his navel, trailing through the sparse scattering of soft hair above the waistband of his jeans. He can feel the warmth of Elijah's erection through the denim before his skin even touches it, tracing the hard shape of it with his cupped palm before scratching fingernails down its length as Elijah arches and shudders against him.

“God... Dom...” There's a plaintive note to Elijah's moaned words and Dom pulls back and takes in the tilted-back face, eyes clamped shut and brows drawn together, and he has to stop himself from claiming those perfect, rose-petal lips, open and wet and pulled just slightly back from the small, even teeth.

Instead, he mouths Elijah's Adam's apple, humming in satisfaction as the button to Elijah's jeans slips open smoothly beneath his fingers, the zip sliding down loosely as he pushes his hand inside and finds damp heat and hard, velvety flesh. Elijah makes a choked, whimpering sound as Dom wraps him in his fist and and strokes him, short and sharp and sticky with too much friction and sweat. Just as Elijah pushes hard into his grip, Dom pulls his hand out and presses his body close, steadying Elijah as he sways and whines softly at the loss of contact. He nips little bites down Elijah's throat and slips his hand around and inside Elijah's boxers to cup his arse, kneading and caressing its firm roundness as he slowly moves his fingers farther around and down until they just graze--

Elijah's body goes taut and there's a sharp gasp in Dom's ear as Elijah wrenches his trapped hands from Dom's distracted grip, shaking them free of the confines of the jacket sleeves and grasping Dom by the shoulders, pushing him away. “No, wait! I can't... I need...” he pants, a sheen of sweat on his imploring face. “I want... Oh, fucking hell, Dom, just kiss me!”

“But--” is all that Dom manages to get out, whatever witty or sarcastic rejoinder he might have produced swallowed up by the force of Elijah's mouth on his, tongue probing artlessly and flavoured with desperation before Dom pulls away. “Whoa, whoa, there...” He forces Elijah back and studies his slightly wild-eyed expression. “What about rule number two?”

“It's my fucking rule, Dom! I can break it if I want to,” he spits.

“Shhh... of course, you can,” Dom soothes, hands on the shoulder muscles on either side of Elijah's neck and squeezing gently. “Just breathe for a second for me, will you?” With a visible effort, Elijah allows his eyes to fall shut and inhales deeply through his nose, once, twice. “Okay. Now... rule number two -- up in smoke, just like that? You sure?” A small, pathetic noise escapes Elijah's throat as he shrugs sheepishly. Dom smiles reassuringly. “Good thing you have me to try all this out on. Save yourself the embarrassment in front of Karl.”

“Dom...” Elijah flinches away from Dom's touch, ducking out from under his hands as he wraps his own arms around himself. His eyes flick side to side and he licks his lips, taking a deep breath as he drags his gaze back to Dom's face, studying him anxiously. His words are barely a whisper. “I don't _want_ Karl.”

Dom's breath catches in his throat, stopped by that naked honesty as effectively as if Elijah had stuffed a cork down his windpipe. He blinks, recovering enough to manage, “Oh.” He frowns and clears his throat. “You don't... oh.” He feels heat rise in his face and can't help staring at Elijah, watching the lines of worry smooth away, replaced by the barest of smiles at the corners of his mouth.

But the smile trickles away under the intensity of Dom's gaze, and Dom dips his head and captures the lips that he's been craving all night, sliding into the hot, dusky sweetness of Elijah's mouth, coaxing and caressing until Elijah is clinging to Dom's neck and shoulders, pressing in tightly from chest to thigh as Dom greedily swallows every sigh and moan that seeks escape from Elijah's slender body.

And Dom finds himself thinking that if this is all he gets tonight, it would be enough, to linger over the warmth of Elijah's mouth and savour the slide and brush of his soft lips, the scrape and shock of teeth on vulnerable flesh. Dom would make a mental note to thank Billy for once again reading his mind, and, as per usual, knowing what Dom wanted before he was aware of it himself and then nudging things in the right direction so that he would get exactly that. But, really -- he's sure Billy already knows all that, what with the mind-reading, and all.

He's distracted from the amusement of that thought by urgent fingers scrabbling at his fly, and he stops them with a gentle grip around Elijah's wrist and pulls back slightly, smiling and dropping a last peck on Elijah's kiss-swollen lips.

“What say I make the next rule, then, since you're not having the best of luck in that department today.”

“Cunt.”

“I'll take that as a 'yes.' Rule number three is: If you tell me to stop -- convincingly, mind -- I'll stop.”

Elijah is silent, searching Dom's eyes and face, finally giving Dom a small nod. “It's a good rule, Sblom,” he says quietly.

Dom licks and nips again at Elijah's lips, staying just out of reach of a proper kiss. “Still straight?” Dom asks and grins broadly.

“As straight as you are,” Elijah retorts with a scowl. “Smug bastard.” He tips his head and looks up at Dom through dark lashes. “Kiss me again?”

“If you insist,” Dom replies, and hesitates, thoughtfully studying Elijah's eyes and the desire he can read in their darkened depths. “But you should know that Karl's not much of one for kissing.”

“Karl who?” Elijah breathes and seals his lips to Dom's once again, wiping Karl, Billy and nearly all rational thought from Dom's mind.

Yes, it would be enough. But if the small hand forcing its way past his waistband is any indication, it won't have to be.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


End file.
